On a Station Platform
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: A conversation which should have taken place.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm so sorry if this isn't exactly canon compliant, it's been in my head and i'm stressed about finals etc. so I just had to write it as it was (canon is blerrrrgh anyway, who are we kidding). Theoretically set the last time Phyllis has to go to London with Cora, before Joseph moves into his cottage. I really hope you like it.**

He stood with her on the platform as the porter took away the suitcases to load onto the train. It was rare that he'd be to come this far with her, usually when her Ladyship was going away it was a swift goodbye for them as he stacked the cases onto the motor car, but with everything changing, he had a little bit more freedom and he'd chosen to come with her. It was very kind of him. She tried not to be sad when she thought about how much she would miss his kindness, in even the smallest gesture to her, punctuating her everyday-…

She stood a little way from where the cases had been a moment ago, half turned away from him, as if still occupied by the luggage, which had gone. She didn't want to think about the fact that by the time she came back, he would be gone too, or at least would have moved out. She knew that she would still see him, but this was the end of their existence under one roof, this thing that she had never imagined would end. And she wanted to hide how much it hurt her, how much she-…

That was why she was here, half-turned away from him, when he'd been kind enough to come and see her off. But he wasn't turned away from her. He stood there, facing her directly, paying her the utmost attention, watching her with concern in his eyes, waiting, it seemed for some sort of a sign from her that she was alright. She owed him that, at least.

She attempted a smile.

"Thank you for coming to see me off, Mr. Molesley," she told him, her voice impressively level.

"It's my pleasure," he told her in reply. And then, a second later, "Funny, that you won't be back before I'm gone."

It was obviously on his mind as well.

"Yes, I'm sorry I won't be," she told him, because she was, "I would have liked to have helped you move your things."

"Don't worry about it," he told her quietly, "There'll be plenty of help. Mr. Bates said he'd give me a hand."

"That's nice of him," she replied smiling a little, "I wanted to be able to see you go, though."

There was a pause.

"That's not what I meant," she told him hurriedly, panicked by the look on his face, "I don't want-… rid of you, I don't want you to go-… I-…"

She fell silent, unable, for once, to read his expression.

"I thought you thought it was a good idea for me to take the cottage," he asked her, puzzled, "That's what you said I should do."

"I do," she insisted, "I want you to make the most of the chance to have what you want. And you can't say you don't want it," she implored him, silently, to understand, "But that doesn't mean I really want you to leave Downton," she admitted, "And if you are going, I want to be there, with you."

He fell silent, looking alarmed. She must really have done it now, she thought. But she didn't realise, and it took her a second to catch on, that his look of alarm was directed over her shoulder and not at her. She turned swiftly, surprised and taken aback herself to see her Ladyship standing there with an uncertain but not unsympathetic look on her face.

"I don't mean to interrupt anything," she told them, "But, Baxter, I think we really should be getting onto the train."

Phyllis flushed.

"Yes, your Ladyship," she replied immediately, "I'm sorry."

But her Ladyship was smiling.

"I'm sure I can ask the guard to hold the train another moment or two," she told her.

And Phyllis watched in astonishment as her employer turned away as if it was the most natural thing in the world, heading down the platform to the official in question, looking suspiciously ready to launch a staggering charm offensive.

Phyllis turned back towards him in disbelief and saw her own surprise mirrored in his face. She was hard-pressed not to laugh.

"She right, though," she told him sadly, "I should be going. I've got to be off in a minute."

"I know," he conceded softly.

He looked so dispirited at the thought, she managed to find the courage to reach out and touch him gently on the arm. He looked down at where her gloved hand was caressing him through his coat.

"And I mean it," she told him quietly, "I think you should go. But I'll miss you," unconsciously, her fingers tranced back over the same spot on his arm, "I'll miss you so much."

His other hand lifted up, crossed his body, took hold of her hand in his.

"I won't be far," he told her, "I'll never be far, if you need me. Not that you would," he added hurriedly, "But if you ever did-…"

"Oh, I would," she told him, trying to swallow the tremble in her voice.

She worried that she'd alarmed him, but she looked in her face and somehow saw everything she was feeling herself. His hand had wound into her, and their fingers were wrapped together.

"You would come to me, then?" he asked, "If you did?"

"If you'd let me," she confirmed to him as best she could.

She could feel a tear on her cheek. God, she wished she didn't have to go.

"Then come to me," he told her very quietly, conscious of the people around them. That was all she expected, but then he went on in a low voice, "Stay with me."

She looked up at him in surprise.

"Stay with me?" he implored her.

"Always?" she asked him.

"Yes."

"Baxter!" her Ladyship's voice came at the very worst time it could have done.

"I have to go," she told him swiftly.

He nodded, letting go of her hand.

"Let me know?" he asked her, "Think about it?"

She gave him one last look before she had to half-run down the platform. Oh, if looks could kiss. If they could caress-…

"Of course. _Of course._ "

 **Please review if you have the time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Really really glad you liked the last chapter, hope you like this one too.**

The knock on the door came as a surprise; he wasn't used to visitors during the week and it was usually him who did the calling round to visit his dad.

It surprised him even more when he saw who was standing there, still in her coat and hat from travelling.

For a moment he simply stood and looked at her in surprise.

She waited, blinked at his expression, and when he said nothing, she said; "You said I should come."

He stirred himself quickly at the quiet, familiar sound of her voice. He realised he was holding on to the door for a little bit of support.

"I didn't know you'd be back so soon," he told her.

"Her Ladyship said I should call round if I wanted to," she gave him a soft, wry smile, oh, how he'd missed that smile, "She seemed to think the sooner the better."

"She wasn't wrong," he affirmed quietly.

They were silent again.

"Can I come in?" she asked him, "Or would you rather I came back l-…"

He'd already stepped back, allowing her in. She smiled at his understanding, looking down as she took off her gloves. He hovered beside her taking off her coat and hanging it on the peg on the wall, as she removed her hat and smoothed a hand anxiously over her hair, checking it was still in place.

He didn't know what made him pluck up the courage to say it, but when he saw her graceful hands pressing at her hair, he leant forwards a little, telling her; "You look lovely."

She relaxed immediately, she flushed a little, even. He flushed, seeing her do so, and he blinked again.

"Do you want to come through?" he asked her, leading her into his sitting room, "Do you want some tea or anything to eat?"

"I'm alright," she told him, "I had something on the train. Thank you, though."

"Please, sit down," he told her suddenly, realising that he hadn't invited her to do so before, indicating the little settee in the middle of the room.

She smiled a little as she settled herself, looking back up at the room when she was there. He sat down on the chair at the end of the settee where she sat, leaning forward so that he was a little closer to her.

"It's lovely here," she told him, "You've made it very nice."

"A lot of it was like this when I got here," he told her, "I haven't added much."

"I bet they were you," she told him, nodding the metal watering can filled with flowers on the window sill.

He looked back at her, saw her barely holding back a grin.

"I'm glad you like it here," he told her a moment later.

"It's more important that you like it here," she reminded him, "But, yes, I do. Very much."

"That's good," he told her softly, "I don't want anything to put you off coming to see me. When you can, of course," he added hurriedly, "I don't want to impose."

"I know you don't, Joseph," she told him softly, calling him by his given name.

He didn't know if she could imagine how it touched him to hear her do that. They were both quiet for a moment.

"What you asked me before I left-…" she started at last, "Or rather, as I left?"

"Yes?" he replied quietly, his voice box somehow suddenly more reluctant to work.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," she confessed.

"Oh?"

"Were you certain about it?" she asked him, "Were-… are you sure?"

"Whatever makes you think I wouldn't be sure?"

"Nothing," she replied softly, "I just needed to check, before I went wading in," she smiled a little to herself, "And made a right fool of myself."

If possible, he sat even further forward.

"You can't make a fool of yourself in front of me," he assured her, "Many have tried. It's impossible."

She laughed, she couldn't help it. She was glad when he smiled a little too. Cautiously, she moved her hand from the arm of the settee, reaching out, taking hold of his hand.

"When I left, I was very sad," she to him softly, looking at his hand in hers, at their fingers wrapped together, "I was sad to leave you, sad that we'd been rushed like we were. I was ever so quiet on the train. Her Ladyship noticed too, and she asked me what was wrong, though I think she already knew."

"I'm sorry to have got you in trouble with her," he told her earnestly, "I'm sorry that I made you sad."

"No, she wasn't angry," she told him softly, "She was… interested."

"What did she say?" he asked her anxiously.

"She tried to cheer me up, actually," she told him, "She said that now we didn't live under the same roof, we'd be able to have a proper courtship. If we wanted to."

He looked up into her face.

"And do you?" he asked.

She shook her head softly.

"I want more, Joseph," she told him, looking into his eyes as they widened with surprise, delight, all manner of emotions that he barely knew how to name.

Without that look, his silence that followed would have been truly unnerving. But it wasn't, she just sat there, letting him think it out.

"Did you tell her that?" was the first thing he said, decidedly not what she had been expecting, nearly making her laugh.

"No, I didn't," she replied, "I thanked her for her kindness, and said nothing else."

He was quiet for a few more moment. Enquiringly, she moved her thumb softly across the back of his hand.

"What do you think?" she asked him, almost timidly, "Have I asked too much?"

He looked up at her, and all of a sudden, his eyes were shining.

"Oh, Phyllis. You couldn't ask too much of me, you couldn't."

He grasped her hand tightly in his, raised it to his lips and kissed the back of her hand, turned it over a gently as if it were made of silk, as kissed her palm. As she watched him, the emotion of his face almost brought a lump to her throat. He looked up into her face.

"Stay?" he asked her.

She nodded fervently.

"Yes," she told him, "Yes."

He rose from his chair and she moved to make space for him beside her, his hands were on her face, cupping her cheeks softly, staring at her features.

"I love you," he whispered so softly that the gentle stroke of him thumb on her cheek was almost louder.

She nodded, fighting back her tears.

"I know you do," she told him quietly, "I love you too."

 **Please review if you have the time.**


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